voice: lost + found

voice: lost + found

my voice is sleeping
somewhere inside
the heart of a woman
i no longer recognize.
i wear new shoes now,
and clumsily break them in.
my very being is one i question.
breaking in these new parts
i barely recognize
which begged for my attention.
which breathed for air and life
as i let old voice parts die.

my voice is layered,
scribbled between
blue lines on paper
which only God and i have seen.
the truth finally make sense
when i see it staring back at me.

my voice is living
somewhere beyond
this time-and-space continuum.
this realm of fives senses;
to taste and smell and touch;
but to truly hear and see,
we don't need to more content consumption;
we need to pay witnessed attention.
my breath; they key.
my heart; the lock
to open the ribcage,
a cave full of mystery.
where the true paradox lives inside of me.
how can i be both dying and alive at the same time?

my voice is hidden
somewhere behind
the thoughts i keep quiet
and tuck deep down inside.
the ones i'd prefer you not
have direct access to.
yet here they are,
pouring out from me into you.

two years have gone by.
i thought my voice
was hidden somewhere
but i've learned that it's not.
it's always here.
it's just that, in times like these,
it's so easy to forget.
disorientation first;
reorientation next.
as i show up for the disorientation,
i'll remember the text.
the sacred voice notes
whispering what's here and now;
not next.
the wisdom voice lies within,
deep in the belly of my heart.
it needs precise attention
because it's an honest work of art.

PoetryHeather WaxmanComment